Hitman II: Resurrection
by Dues Ex
Summary: Continuation of Hitman Harry Potter/Charmed x-over 17 Years later Harry is the Minister of Magic Hermione is Headmaster of Hogwarts and Ron is the DDA teacher. They have changed but be sure your sins will find you out they will pay for their past sins.
1. Chapter I

Disclaimer – I do not own any of the Harry Potter or Charmed characters in this fiction.

* * *

Hitman II: Resurrection  
Chapter I

* * *

Harry exhaled loudly and leaned back in his large black chair. His eyes slowly fell shut, as he inhaled through his nose and kicked his feet up onto his beautiful wooden desk. He rarely got a moments peace at his new job― he was always busy, and always bothered, but that wasn't the case not today.

Two days ago, he had specifically instructed his secretary to start giving him one hour of free time each day just to relax. Today was the day it began to take effect. Only five seconds into it, Harry loved the notion more than ever.

The hot bright sunlight streamed through the window behind his desk, covering him in a warm, natural blanket. At the head of the desk was a solid gold display that read _Harry Potter, Minister of Magic_.

It had been seventeen years since the Blood Moon Incident. In short, that meant it had been seventeen years since Harry and Ron officially retired from "the business," as they referred to it. Yet, despite the years that had elapsed since then, it still seemed like yesterday in Harries mind, because the scenes from that night had been replaying in his head ever since then.

That night was like a nightmare. No, it was infinitely more terrible, because it was real. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had watched Dumbledore get his head gobbled off by Draco Malfoy, the cremation of Cornelius Fudge, and the murder of Neville Longbottom. Furthermore, if it hadn't been for them killing Draco and his father, Lucius, they themselves would have been slaughtered.

Still, Harry just tried to blame his current mental state merely upon the dreadful events of that evening. Unconsciously, however, he recognized that this was a complete lie. Throughout the ten or some odd years that he and Ron were hired assassins, he had killed dozens of people, ripped family's apart, slain children, and committed just about every other heinous crime out there. Therefore, his current mental condition― the reason he woke up nearly every night in cold sweats, reaching for his gun― was because of his past.

Yet, now those times were behind him, or at least that's what he strove to reassure himself. As such, Harry would simply repress the memories, burrowing them deep in his brain. It worked at times, but often it did not.

Numerous times, he awoke, screaming or shedding tears. In fact, he still had to drag himself from the bed and come into the office.

Being the Minister of Magic sounded like so much fun seventeen years ago, but truthfully it was nothing but a pain in the ass.

Sighing, Harry removed his feet from the desk and sat correctly, realizing he could not take a catnap at the moment. Abandoning the idea of slumber, his eyes trailed languidly around the room until they finally rested on a picture of his two daughters, London and Taryn.

Ah, there were his two beautiful girls, whom were presently attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unfortunately, however much he loved his children, he couldn't glance at them without being reminded of their mother. His wife had perished shortly after giving birth to Taryn.

Now, his daughters were his world, because they were the only vestiges she had left on Earth after her all too brief stay upon it. Long ago, Harry had elected to never remarry or even date another woman. Somehow he figured the death of his one true love was God's way of punishing him for his past, and, as a result, he felt if he got close to any woman, death was her fate. This conviction had even caused him to even contemplate giving his daughters up for adoption after their birth.

Then he recalled what it had been like for him to not grow up with his parents, living with relatives and having only stories to hold you at night, and desperately attempting to bond with your best friend's parents to fill that void. Only after you had poured in all that time and energy did you have the epiphany that it was all futile. Only in the end did it at last dawn on you that you were alone.

He could not do that to his children then, and now, after raising his two beautiful daughters for sixteen years, he possessed no other joy. He visited them whenever he could, and, since their arrival at Hogwarts, Harry had stepped up the old castle's security one hundred fold. Armed guards now patrolled the castle at night, and dragon riders flew the skies hourly. No measure was too great if it meant protecting his baby girls.

A resounding knock at the door snapped Harry from his reverie. "Yes," he tried to holler, clearing his constricted throat.

"Its Denise, Mr. Potter," a sweet voice called through the door.

"It's all right, Denise, you can come in," Harry replied, realizing with a surprised blink that his hour nap time was over.

Barely a second later, before Harry could truly compose himself, one of the most attractive women in the world entered. Her medium-length brown hair was twisted up into a thick bun and kept in place by a pencil, so her lovely face was on broad display. The thin wire frames of her spectacles set off her eyes, lips, and commanding smile. She wore a tight-fitted purple suit top with a matching dress that stopped just at her knees. Her heels, fingers, and toes all matched. As he often had to around Denise, Harry had to take a breath and calm the heat inside him.

"You have to get ready for your 6 o'clock engagement, sir," announced his secretary.

"Thank you, Denise," Harry managed to stutter.

"Is anything wrong?" she inquired sweetly.

"No, you just look magnificent today." The compliment emerged from Harries lips before he could prevent it. Damn, what was he doing? He had vowed to himself that he would never even date another female, but Denise was so blasted tempting that she could prompt any man's resolve to falter.

"Thank you, Harry," she giggled. Her expression of mirth revealed her perfect white teeth. "I must return to my desk. The phones are ringing off the hook."

"Okay," Harry said. "Send my 6 o'clock visitor in immediately."

His office door closed behind Denise as she departed. Watching her leave, he emitted another sigh and let his head fall on the table in despair. "Why, Lord, why?" he moaned, shaking his head back and forth where it rested.

* * *

"And what should one do if every confronted by a werewolf?" Ronald Weasley turned to regard his pupils and tapped his wand on his desk.

In response to his query, hands of eager students flew up all around the classroom.

"Miss Potter." Ron pointed the wand at her, indicating that she should answer.

A dark-haired girl beamed and rose, her hazel eyes blazing with her satisfaction that she knew the correct response to her instructor's question. "If unarmed and not in a position to run one should slowly curl up and lay perfectly still on the ground," she recited. "The werewolf vision is very poor so most likely it will lose interest."

"Thank you, Miss Potter." Ron grinned his approval at her.

"Of course, Professor Weasley." The girl sat down again.

"It should be noted, however, that method has not yet been proven to save any lives. Still, it's still good to know." Ron pivoted to face the board and began writing upon it.

A boy sitting next to Miss Potter leaned to his right, and, shielding his mouth with his palm hissed, "Pssst." When he had her attention, he praised, "That was bloody brilliant, Taryn."

"Thanks, James," she whispered back, glowing. "What are we doing after class?"

"Miss Potter! Mr. Weasley!" Ron's sharp tone pierced through their whispering.

Guilt etched all over their features, James and Taryn snapped to attention, as Professor Weasley stormed towards them.

"The two of you are constantly disrupting my class with your talking," chided Ron.

"I'm sorry, Dad," James muttered.

"Professor Weasley in the classroom. Remember that, James," Professor Weasley corrected his son."I have a right mind to―" Whatever threat he had been intending to deliver was chopped off when a voice barked from the doorway.

"Professor Weasley!" Headmistress Granger shout filled the entire chamber, and students, commenting softly to each other about her arrival, whirled around to see what had raised her ire this time.

"Yes, Headmistress?" Sighing resignedly, Ron spun around to face the head of the school.

"I need to have a word with you," Headmistress Hermione Granger pronounced before turning and striding into the corridor once more.

Reluctantly, sensing that whatever she was about to say was bad news, Ron proceeded towards the door, ordering. "Mr. Randolph and Miss Solomon, you two are in charge until I return. Everyone, read chapters five through ten while I'm gone. You'd better do it, because you will be quizzed on it when I return."

As soon as the last syllable escaped from his lips, the classroom door closed, and the adolescents immediately began having a paper-ball war.

Ron stepped out into the empty hallway preparing to be the recipient of yet another lecture. Hermione was always telling Ron to stop being so hard on James, as she wanted him to give James special treatment because he was their son. Always, Ron contended that special treatment was not going to make him a brilliant wizard, but, in the end, Hermione always won.

"Yes, Hermione?" he asked, even though he already had a definite idea of where this exchange was headed.

To his shock, she leapt into his arms and forced him back onto the wall. Then, she pressed her lips forcefully onto Ron's and sensually slid her tongue into his mouth, massaging his tongue and cheeks with it. Surrendering to her, Ron wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged his beloved Hermione closer to him.

Hermione broke the kiss.

"Shag me right here, Daddy," she begged.

"No, no not here baby," he told her, glancing to the left and right. "Classes end soon, and there will be too much traffic."

Hermione pressed her lips back on Ron's, locking him in another passionate and horny kiss. As she did so, she dragged her hands down his chest and along his thigh. Then, she closed her fingers around his throbbing member. As a result, Ron jerked forward and pushed her back breathing hard and looking to the left then the right.

"The broom closet!"

They both bolted inside, slamming the door shut just as lessons ended, and students flooded out of the classrooms. Taryn and James came running out of the classroom and bolted down the hallway, laughing loudly.

"Come on, James, we have to hurry!" Taryn hollered steps ahead of the addressed as she dashed through the hallways.

"Hey!"Taryn and James skidded to a halt when a pretty girl about sixteen years old with short dark hair and wire framed glasses shouted and marched toward them. Where the hell are you two trying to go?" __

"Trying to catch you before you go to class, London," Taryn answered her older sister.

"Piss off. If I'm late again, your dad is going to shit in his pants, James," London growled.

"Nope," James countered, smirking. "Mum came and got him from class. They're probably off shagging in some broom closet."

"Well that means he probably won't be back until next period," London chortled. "What do you guys want to do, then?"

James checked over his shoulders, and then motioned for Taryn and London to lean closer to. "I've got a joint," he whispered, grinning.

Taryn glanced at London, who looked at her. Then, they looked at James. Finally, they all nodded their heads and smiled.

Minutes later, the three of them were in a broom closet, passing around the joint and laughing as they shared it. James took a big hit and held it in for a moment before suddenly breaking into a violent coughing fit.

At this site, Taryn and London started giggling harder.

"Pass that shit, ya' pussy!" London teased him.

When she did, James started to laugh, as well, and began choking harder, as a result. Still laughing, he handed the joint to Taryn.

When he stopped coughing, James and rubbed his stomach. "I'm bloody hungry," he proclaimed. "Let's raid the kitchen again."

"Okay," agreed London. "The joint is done anyway."

James reached and twisted the handle, opening the broom closet door. After striding into the hall, he bumped right into a massive belly.

"And what exactly where you three doing?" demanded Hagrid.

London, Taryn, and James fearfully stared into Hagrid's eyes. Hagrid's hair was fully grey now. Not a speck of black remained. Additionally, he had a gigantic tree-trunk-sized walking stick.

"Nothing, Grandpa Hagrid," Taryn educated him, striving to sound as sweet and innocent as possible. She even tossed in the sad puppy dog eyes.

"Now don't lie to me. I can smell it all the way down the hall," Hagrid hissed furiously. "Don't ye be tryin' ter win me over with your cuteness either."

"We're sorry, Grandpa Hagrid," London murmured, just as cute as Taryn. Sidling up next to him, she offered him a repentant expression as moving as her younger siblings.

"Yeah, Grandpa Hagrid," James contributed. "It was just a small joint."

Hagrid sighed deeply and shook his head. "You three have to be more careful when you're smoking your ganja." Shaking his head, Hagird exhaled gustily. "I took a hit or two when I was your age, so I can't be mad at ye lot."

"Thank you, thank you!" all three cried out in unison.

"If Ron, Hermione, or Harry found out you three were smoking they'd hang the lot of us," Hagrid continued. "So do it outside or somewhere I can at least pretend I didn't know about it." Hagrid turned and started to make his way down the hall, shouting over his shoulder. "I'm too old ter be dealing with another set of mischievous children."

"Let's just go to class and meet up afterwards to raid the kitchen," James remarked when they were sure he was gone.

"Yeah, plus whatever that was we smoked has me walking on clouds," London giggled. "I think I'm actually gonna learn something in class today."

Taryn broke into hysterical laughter. "Whatever. I'll see you all later."

* * *

The Seer stormed back and forth through the dimly lit cave obviously bothered by something and pondering on it heavily. She knew her time was almost up and could think of nothing that could be done to help her. The Seer had secretly tricked Cole Turner into taking over as the Source of all evil in hopes that the darkness of the Source would lead him to kill the Charmed Ones. Instead, however The Charmed ones vanquished Cole and were hot on her trail.

She had to do something. No demon she knew would dare stand against the three most powerful witches of all time. Then she got a brilliant idea. She began dashing around the cave gathering ingredients and tossing them into a huge cauldron that was burning in the middle of the room. Once all the proper ingredients were in place the magical concoction began to bubble and smoke. The Seer pulled an old book from a shelf and tore through the pages searching for the proper spell.

She cleared her throat and began to chant "Adas Vibray Centro," over and over again. As she chanted the smoke from the cauldron began to swirl around and form a huge circle door-like shape. She began to chant in a stronger more demanding tone over and over again. Black streaks suddenly began to flow around the circle of smoke and lightning began to discharge from it.

"_Adas Vibray Centro! Adas Vibray Centro!"_

The smoke began to grow more solid and more lightning shot from the portal. Then suddenly the portal exploded knocking the cauldron & The Seer down to the ground. Dust and smoke filled the room causing the Seer to cough and gag for air. She waved her hands back and forth trying to clear her field of vision. She caught a glimpse of someone standing in the midst of the smoke dressed in all black.

"Who are you? Where am I?"


	2. Chapter II

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter or Charmed characters in this fiction.

* * *

Hitman II: Resurrection

Chapter II

* * *

(Several Months Later)

A long black stretch Cadillac truck pulled to the side of the road and stopped in front of a darkened home on the corner. It stood for a moment. Then, the driver exited the vehicle and bustled to open the passenger's door in the back.

Two large men wearing black suits stepped out. On their heels, two beautiful women, both decked out in long mink coats, came. After them, a third man climbed out of the doorway and slipped a small stack of money into the driver's pocket.

"Thanks, Mr. Clover," the driver beamed at the man who had tipped him so handsomely.

"Don't mention it," Mr. Clover replied. As he made this careless response, he reached back in the automobile and grabbed a leather jacket along with a matching hat from the Cadillac. When he turned back around, he noticed two dark figures standing a few feet away from them.

"Boris and Gregory, who are they?" Mr. Clover demanded of his security guards.

When he posed this inquiry, his two brawny bodyguards started walking towards the pair of beings who were standing at the corner.

"What's going on, Conner?" one of the women cried out.

"___Shut up, and get in the house__!_" Mr. Clover instructed, harried.

The two women kicked off their heels and made a mad dash through the grass for the front door. One of the men lifted his hand and shot a fireball directly at the women, catching one in the shoulder. She screamed and exploded in a puff of flames, as the second woman collapsed to the ground, fainting from the terrifying scene she had just witnessed.

"___Kill those motherfuckers,_" Mr. Clover bellowed.

Before Boris or Gregory could get their pistols drawn and let off a shot, both of them were engulfed in flames and burned to a crisp. As Mr. Clover stumbled backwards and slipped off the curb beside the Cadillac's wheel, the two assailants moved closer and closer.

"W-wha-what do you want f-from me?" Clover stammered. "Wh-who sent you? I can out pay them. Just tell me how much."

His attackers did not answer. The one on the right reached inside his jacket and pulled a beautiful chrome Desert Eagle .50 caliber handgun.

"___N-No! No! Please!" implored Clover frantically. _

The assassin aimed at Mr. Clover's heart and yanked back on the trigger, blowing a book sized whole in his chest.

* * *

Harry slowly walked down the hallway, carrying a manila folder in his right hand. His eyes were unmoving, as he straight ahead at his destination. His suit was black with a matching shirt, but his tie and handkerchief were blood red. His hair was still black, except for a few streaks of grey that streamed from his forehead to the nape of his neck. Although Harry was forty years old now, he was still in decent shape and still able to pin a fly to a wall with a 9mm.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," someone greeted him loudly.

Ignoring the shouter, Harry proceeded to his office. "Denise," he called out as he walked past his secretary's desk. "Don't let anyone bother me today."

"But, um, sir," she protested.

Cutting her off mid-argument, he slammed the door to his office and walked past his Minister of Magic name tag before slumping into his chair, mumbling, "I need a vacation." After that, it didn't take him long to doze off, and the last thing he remembered was the clock reading 9:45am.

* * *

_Ring! Ring! Ring! _

The phone dragged Harry back from dreamland. Lazily, he glanced at the clock.

"11:35?" He questioned the accuracy his own vision and quickly grabbed the phone. "Hello?" It was apparent in his voice that he'd been sleeping.

"Mr. Potter, this is District Attorney Hicks," announced the man on the other end of the line.

"Hicks, how's it going?" Harry asked.

"No time for pleasantries, sir, I have something you need to see," Hick's declared, the urgency etched deeply into his tone.

"What's happened?" Harry discovered that the other man's urgency was contagious, for he was now sitting upright in his seat and fixing the loosened tie that was twisted around his neck.

"A mob boss was found dead, sir," Hicks educated him rapidly. "Conner Clover was killed last night."

Harry almost dropped the phone. Conner Clover ran half of London's magical and non-magical drug trade and prostitution rings. He was very skilled at what he did, because never touched the work and was never around it so they couldn't pin anything on him. Yet, Harry had been building a case for nearly six years now against. Nobody― not even the other mob bosses― would touch him, since it was too risky.

"Where are you?" Harry demanded.

"5th and Churchill," responded the barrister.

As swiftly as possible, Harry hung up the phone, grabbed his coat, and rushed out of the room.

* * *

The entire corner was taped off in yellow caution strips. A pair of body bags was strewn on the front lawn, and two more were situated on the sidewalk near the stretch Cadillac truck. Another one was near the passenger side near the front and the final one was leaning on the back tire.

"Six bodies?" Harry questioned his own vision for the second time that day as he pulled his car to the side, parking quickly. He hurriedly disembarked and put on his brown overcoat. Then, he strode briskly towards the yellow tape.

News cameras and people were already around the scene, snapping pictures and asking for interviews. A woman followed closely by a cameraman dashed up to him.

She extended her hand for him to shake. "Susan Hilltop from the Channel 12 News. I was wondering…"

"No comments," Harry interjected irascibly and shoved past her.

"Fucking flies," he growled, pushing through the small wall of people.

"___Hicks!"_ somebody hollered when Harry crossed the yellow tape.

A man appearing to be in his mid-twenties and attired in traditional cop garb with the standard firearm strapped to his hip stepped around the side of the Cadillac.

"It's all right. He's with me," Hick established, offering his hand to Harry in welcome "Potter."

"Hicks." Harry accepted his outstretched hand. "So, what do we have so far?"

Pivoting, Hicks motioned for Harry to follow him. When they reached the car, he reached down and pulled the sheet off the body leaning on the Cadillac's tire.

"Conner Clover," Hicks informed him, jabbing a finger at the body.

Harry eyed the body for a moment. "Looks like a Desert Eagle .50 caliber," Harry remarked, scrutinizing the hole in the corpse. "Who are the others?"

Hicks pointed to the body bags on the sidewalk. "Boris and Gregory, his usual bodyguards." He gestured at the corpses on the grass. "Two random hookers that Conner picked up and the limo driver is on the other side of the caddy."

"All the bodies were shot with the same weapon?" pressed Harry.

"No," Hicks answered. "That's why I called you."

Hicks was the District Attorney, but his mother was a pureblood witch, so he knew about the magical world and its workings. The rest of his force had no idea Harry was the Minister of Magic or even the slightest bit of his history. Hicks motioned for Harry to follow him again, and they moved behind the Cadillac.

"The report is going to read that the two bodyguards, females, and driver were killed by a blow torch, but I know otherwise," Hicks muttered once he was sure nobody was listening. "This has demonic and magical murder written all over it."

"So you're telling me some demon, witch, or whatever burned everyone with a fireball and then shot Conner Clover? Why?" frowned Harry.

"I don't know why. I was hoping maybe you could tell me," Hicks countered. "Do you know anything serious that's going on? Are there any new players in the game? You know you can trust me, Harry. I just need to know if my men are safe investigating this."

Harry paused and contemplated the issue. "Yeah, they should be," he concluded at last. "Whoever did this obviously wanted your police force to think it was a non-magical murder. Just another mob boss getting killed in a gruesome way."

"Some new young punks trying to send a message," Hicks stated, sighing.

"Exactly," Harry agreed. "There's obviously something bigger going on here, but we'll just have to be patient and wait to discover what it is." Glancing at his watch, he added apologetically, "I've got to go, Hicks. Call me if anything else comes up."

* * *

Ron swung the door open and held it while Hermione and James entered. Then, he trailed them in. They were having dinner tonight with Harry, London, and Taryn in a few minutes. Hermione finally caught a glimpse of Harry and the two girls sitting at a circular booth in the corner. She waved cheerily and picked up speed to reach Harry.

"Harry, it's so good to see you," Hermione exclaimed, embracing him. "London and Taryn, hello. Give Auntie Hermione a hug."

"Oh, stop it, Auntie, you see us every day," London giggled, as Hermione wrapped her arms around her and Taryn.

"Ron." Harry dragged his old friend in for a quick hug.

"How's everything going, Harry?" Ron asked, smiling.

"Everything is good," Harry told him. "Job is still dull as ever but I'm alive."

"Hello, Uncle Harry," James said, giving Harry a squeeze.

"James, you look bigger every time I see you," chuckled Harry.

"The boy is growing like a tree," Hermione affirmed, taking her seat.

Everyone laughed and seated themselves all around the booth, talking and catching up with one another. Actually, it was really Harry, Ron and Hermione who were catching up with one another, since their children were together 24/7, just like they used to be. After awhile, the waiter came and took their order. Soon, their food was brought to them and they began to eat.

"So, Dad," London said. "Taryn and I are going to go to the bathroom."

Taryn gave James the look. "I suddenly have to drain the snake also," James announced.

All three of them sprang from the booth and disappeared off before anyone could object. "Well, that was strange," Ron observed, munching on his steak.

"They're probably going off to smoke a joint or something," Harry said. "Let them go they aren't hurting anybody. Besides, I've got something to tell you two."

"What is it?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"Conner Clover was murdered last night," Harry explained. "Hicks told me that he thinks it's magical related."

"That is big." Stupefied, Ron dropped his fork. "Whoever touched Conner is going to have a lot of heat coming down on him. After all, Conner supplied half the city with drugs."

"Something major is going on, Harry," warned Hermione. "Mob bosses don't just get murdered for any reason."

"I know, but I have no evidence and no leads, so all I can really do now is wait for a witness to get dropped in my lap." Harry flung his napkin on the table and leaned back, frustrated.

* * *

"Bloody hell, London, pass the Dobie to your left-hand side," James guffawed. "You're always hogging it."

London took another big hit. "It's what I do, baby." When she made this pronouncement, they burst into laughter as she handed the joint to James.

They were standing by a dumpster in an alley behind the restaurant, taking a quick few hits to lighten up this boring dinner they'd been dragged to. Luckily for them, Taryn had come up on some marijuana earlier and saved it for the occasion.

"Nothing ever goes wrong when I smoke weed," James commented, blowing a circle from his lips.

The sound of a car screeching to a halt filled the air, followed by the sound of rapid gunshots. A black car swerved hard, and then hit a clean turn into the alley they were in, speeding past them. Two figures were standing on top the car, shooting relentlessly down through the roof. The car slammed into the wall and came to an abrupt stop. The two assailants reloaded their weapons and fired their entire clips through the roof before disappearing into thin air.

James, London, and Taryn stayed huddled low by the dumpster; thanking Merlin the two gunmen had not seen them witness the entire murder. They couldn't move from the spot, for they were frozen with fear.

"___JAMES! LONDON! TARYN!"_

They heard the sound of their names being called, and James sprang up from behind the dumpster.

"___We're over here, Dad!__" _he shouted.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry were just walking past the alley entrance and turned bolting down towards them.

"Oh, thank Merlin you're all alright," Hermione cried, throwing her arms about them all.

"We heard gunshots," Harry stated in a rush. "What happened?"

London spun and pointed to the bullet-hole-covered black-car, which was smoking a few feet away from them. "We saw everything, Dad," she whispered, still in shock.


	3. Chapter III

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter or Charmed characters in this fiction.

* * *

Hitman II: Resurrection  
Chapter III

* * *

"Okay, so tell me in full detail what you saw," Harry told the frightened looking children. They were sitting in an interrogation room with Hermione and Ron watching them through a huge black tinted window.

"Their testimony could be thrown out if the case was to go to court," a man standing behind Hermione and Ron said.

"Why?" Hermione immediately demanded.

"One, because it was in a dark alley with no light, and I'm positive they saw no faces," he told her. "Two, because they have marijuana in their system, so they were disoriented at the time."

"We'll see," Ron grumbled and turned his attention back to the interrogation room.

London and Taryn were wiping tears and trying to compose themselves, so they could begin talking. James took a deep breath and started telling what he had seen.

"We were outside in the alley smoking on a cigarette—"

"We know it was marijuana, James; you don't have to lie," Harry interrupted him.

"Um, okay," replied James nervously, glancing at the tinted window. "So, we were outside smoking and—"

"Smoking what? This is on the record, so I need to know any and every detail," Harry interrupted James again.

James took another deep breath. "Okay. We were outside smoking some weed when we heard loud noises."

"Like tires screeching and turning a corner very hard," Taryn jumped in.

"Yeah, and a lot of gunshots," London added.

"A minute later, the car came flying down the alley and from what I saw it already had a lot of bullet holes in it," James continued.

"And there was two men standing on top of the car!" exclaimed Taryn.

"Two men standing on top of a moving vehicle?" questioned Harry.

"Yeah, Dad, two shadowy figures standing on top of the car, shooting down through the roof," London told Harry.

"But there was nobody there when I arrived," Harry said.

"We'll get to that, Dad. Let us finish telling the story," whined Taryn.

"Sorry, baby," Harry apologized. "Continue."

Taryn cleared her throat. "So, the car came flying into the alley, and the two guys were standing on top of it, shooting down through the roof."

"We hid behind a dumpster, and the car shot maybe ten feet away from us and crashed into the wall," London took over.

"The guys on top of the car reloaded their guns and shot several more bullets through the window before disappearing," finished James.

"Disappeared like how? Teleported?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, something like that," agreed James.

"They just vanished, Dad," Taryn said.

"So, you didn't see any faces? Heard no names? Remember a logo on some clothing maybe?" Harry hoped the teenagers had seen something—anything- useful.

"No," Taryn said.

"No," London repeated.

"One of the guys had a red dragon on his pants leg," James told Harry. "If that helps."

Harry sighed and started gathering his papers. "Every little bit helps. Thanks, kids."

"Red dragon on his pants leg, huh?" the man behind Hermione and Ron said. "Could be a hit by the Red Dragons on the competition."

As he said those last words, Harry had came into the room. "Exactly what I was thinking," he commented.

"Who was in the limo, Harry?" Ron demanded.

"Boss Gron," Harry said.

"Wow." Hermione shook her head.

"Another mob boss taken out." Ron rubbed his forehead. "What if the gunmen know our kids saw them? Our kids are wrapped up in this fucking case now!"

"Calm down, Ron," Harry pleaded with his best friend. "If the gunmen had seen them, they would have been dead."

"Oh thank you, Harry, that's comforting to think about." Ron shook his head.

"I'm going to call a friend of mine, so we can pay a visit to the Red Dragons and ask some questions," Harry told Hermione and Ron. "Can you watch London and Taryn for me tonight? They're really shaken up."

"Okay," Ron said solemnly. He watched Harry nod and leave the room. Ron wondered what happened to the days when Harry would have asked him to come investigate the lead and join him on an adventure. Times had changed over the years and Ron had to just accept it.

* * *

Harry guided his car to the right and parked in front of the police station. Minutes later, Hicks came sprinting down the stairs putting on his suit jacket. He opened the door and climbed inside Harry's car.

"So what's up, Mr. Potter?" Hicks asked.

"My kids witnessed Boss Gron getting murdered last night and said one of the assassins had a Red Dragon on his pants legs," Harry told him.

"So, we're going to the Red Dragons now, I presume," Hicks said.

"You know me to well." Harry grinned.

"I wish you would have told me before hand," Hicks said dryly. "I would have brought and extra clip."

They laughed and fell silent for the rest of the ride. Streetlights floated over, freeways dragged along, and minutes fell from the clock until finally Harry guided the car down a dark street with no streetlights. The street was a dead end, and the houses along the block were rundown and looked empty. One tall home on the corner had a few lights on in the house.

"Let's go ask some questions," Hicks said reaching to open his door.

Harry locked the doors. "This isn't just some random street gang, Hicks," Harry told him. "These are the Red Dragons, one of the most powerful demonic gangs in our area. I needed some backup and right now you're the only person I can trust."

Hicks nodded his head. "All right then." He cocked his handgun back and flipped the safety on. "Let's go ask some questions." Hicks opened the door and climbed out.

Harry reached and pulled a long chrome revolver from his dashboard and then exited the vehicle. They walked slowly towards the house and up the few stone stairs. Harry paused and held his hand up stopping. The door was cracked open and light was showing from the inside.

Harry lifted his revolver and slowly pushed the door open sliding inside pistol pointed first. Hicks was close behind him safety off at the ready. Once the door opened, it was clear something big had gone on. Four dead bodies were lying around the room directly to the right of Harry, bloodied and riddled with bullet holes.

Harry motioned for Hicks to search the left and continued down towards the room with the dead bodies. The four men appeared to have been dead for at least a day or so and Harry spotted a tattooed red dragon on one of the dead men's neck.

"Somebody took out the Red Dragons," Harry grumbled.

"_Harry!_"

Harry gripped his .357 and dashed down the hall towards Hicks' voice. He sped through the room and kicked the door open to find seven more dead bodies lay about in the room.

"Christ," Harry said angrily.

Hicks came walking through another door. "They're all dead," he said. "At least twenty of them."

Harry said nothing; he just stood there perfectly still staring at the bodies.

"Somebody didn't want us to know anything." Hicks tried to break the silence and walk towards Harry.

"_Fuck!_" Harry exclaimed and stormed out of the room. "Another fucking dead end."

* * *

A tall dark demon walked through a dimly lit cave. Shadows danced and jerked all around the walls, and his face caused by the torches that burned to light the pathway. The demon proceeded forward, and then turned left and entered a room. Inside were a dozen demons in hooded robes, one wearing a blood red robe and hood, The New Source.

The demon immediately bowed. "Your will has been done, Master," the demon said.

"Excellent. The hits were carried out exactly as I specified?" The Source questioned.

"Yes my lord," the demon said. "All hits were carried out per your order, and I killed the Red Dragons as well to leave no leads."

"Excellent," The Source said happily. "I am pleased."

"There was only one problem," the demon added a moment later.

"What problem?" The Source demanded, raising his voice a little.

"Three children saw me and the Red Dragon member kill Boss Gron."

"Find the children and bring them here we can have no loose ends," The Source instructed. "Now go."


End file.
